Sunday morning going slowi'm talking to the radioClothes and records on the floorThe memories of the night beforeOut in club land having funAnd now I'm hiding from the sunWaiting for a visitorBut no-one know's I'm here for sureI think it's time to cook a mealTo fill the emptiness I feelSpend my money going outI've nothing in I'm left withoutClean my teeth and comb my hairAnd look for something new to wearStart the nightlife over againAnd kid myself I'm having funDancing, laughing, drinking, lovingAnd now I'm all aloneIn bedsit land my only homeI look out from my window viewThere's really nothing else to doRead a book maybe write a letterMother, things are getting betterWatch the mirrorCount the linesThe battle scars of all the good timesI look around and I can seeA thousand people just like me.